


What if I fall?

by sxrgxnt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Oneshot, Recovered_GayTM, angela used to have an affair with amelie, but i love it, honestly this is just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 09:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12430272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxrgxnt/pseuds/sxrgxnt
Summary: Two hands that you already know far too well slid under your shirt as you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head backwards, wondering what exactly went wrong in your life that led you to this exact situation, sitting on the desk in your office with the most dangerous and wanted sniper from an enemy organization covering your body with hers.





	What if I fall?

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language so please bare with me here... I wrote this for the best girl ever and I'm happy because she likes it, hopefully you will enjoy it too!

Two hands that you already know far too well slid under your shirt as you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head backwards, wondering what exactly went wrong in your life that led you to this exact situation, sitting on the desk in your office with the most dangerous and wanted sniper from an enemy organization covering your body with hers.

You can feel Widowmaker’s exceptionally sharp teeth’s nail your skin as a soft sigh escapes your lips, your eyes opening up almost immediately to scan the room around you. Both of your legs are loosely wrapped around the sniper’s body but your hands simply rest on the desk under you without any intention of moving to reciprocate her touches. It’s not that you don’t want this – her. Of course you do, you have wanted her for the longest time. But there’s something different tonight that makes her hands feel dirty and hard against your skin where they’re usually distracting and comforting. Instead of helping you forget they’re making you remember, so when you finally make a move it’s to carefully push Widowmaker away from you, avoiding her eyes at all costs as you feel yours fill up with tears.

“I can’t – not tonight. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing; it’s not like she cares. Not a sound escapes the other woman’s lips, and you don’t need to look at her to know she’s just standing there looking at you. You know it’s not a good idea, but you meet her gaze and almost immediately a tear slides down your chin. There’s no trembling or sobbing; you’ve cried enough to master the art and this is now more of a rutine to you. It doesn’t seem to impress Widowmaker though, who now turns around to walk towards one of the book-covered shelves that fill your office. Even though there are no mirrors nearby (you’re not interested in looking at your face after hours of non-stop work with no sleep in between them) you’re one hundred percent certain you look like a mess right now. A slow hand tries to fix your hair as the other moves to button up your shirt in a useless attempt to look somewhat dignified.

Widowmaker on the other hand looks completely unfazed by the circumstances of your meeting. Her hair is still perfectly collected in a tight ponytail and judging by the way she moves you’d think she’s here for a business meeting or something of the sorts. She always has a strange and mysterious aura of grace surrounding her at all times; not even the rough-looking tattoos now displayed in her skin or the huge weapon she carries with her at all times have been able to erase Amelie’s elegance from Widowmaker. You wish you could find comfort in seeing your old friend and lover in her, but it’s quite the opposite. For some reason it makes you realise she’s never coming back.

“Who is it this time?” Her words pierce the air like knives that bring you back to reality, but you don’t feel the need to reply as your hands move up to wipe away the tears that now cover your cheeks. You know she isn’t finished. “Is it Amèlie again?” She musters absently, knowing well enough her words are going to hurt you despite of her innocent tone. That’s exactly what she wants for some twisted reason, you think. “Do you still miss her?” She asks turning around to look at you as if she was staring at a wild animal, waiting for a violent reaction of some sort so she can add a new note to her list of discoveries about you. You won’t give her that satisfaction, not tonight, so instead you just keep quiet.

“Or is it about the other girl?” Her lips curve in a twisted and mechanical smile that you know bears no feeling whatsoever. Widowmaker does that sometimes; say or do something she doesn’t fully understand just because she knows it will get a reacion out of you. And she knows more than anyone the complicated nature of your relationship with Fareeha. Your fingers dig deep into the wood of the desk you’re still sitting on as you tilt your head forward, letting some blonde strands of hair cover both sides of your face while Widowmaker keeps talking. You can hear the heavy heels of her boots against the floor as she makes her way once again towards you. “How can you feel so blue about someone you don’t even love?”

“I do.” You interrupt her impulsively, not even sure about what you’re saying but willing to do anything to stop her from speaking about Fareeha. Her presence blurrs your thoughts like a thin layer of mist in your brain. “I love her.”

“You don’t.” She almost cuts you off, standing in front of you and moving her hand to grab your jaw with firm but careful fingers. You can feel the pointy ends of her nails dig into your cheeks and just that small feeling of pain is enough to make you want to look at her again when she raises your head. “I wouldn’t be here if you did.”

Her words prove a point you always try to avoid. You tell yourself you love Fareeha, after all you’ve been together for a long time now. It’s clear she loves you as well, for you’ve known eachother for years, but even if it’s not her choice she has to spend the majority of her time away from you due to work. That’s what you think to justify your meetings with Widowmaker, at least; you feel lonely and the company of the sniper is the only thing that keeps your mind away from Fareeha.

However it’s far from the truth and you know it perfectly. Your work keeps you busy enough as it is and you already have trouble to plan your meetings with both women because of how tight your schedule is. You’ve even found yourself cancelling appointments with Fareeha to meet Widowmaker, choosing staying in your office even if there’s only a small chance the sniper would climb through your window over going out to dinner with your girlfriend. How can you say you love her and pretend you’re not lying?

Widowmaker’s hands bring you back to reality once more, as one of them pushes your hair away from your face and behind your ears. Coming from any other person this would seem like a caring gesture, but looking into Widowmaker’s eyes you almost feel inferior letting her do that. It’s as sickening as it is addicting.

“The truth is, you still love Amèlie.” She adds, still with that terrible smile of hers plastered on her face. “And since she’s gone, you think you love me.”

You don’t tell her she’s wrong. You couldn’t lie to those eyes even if you wanted to. When your gaze meet hers it’s always Amèlie’s the eyes that look back at you. From the way she carries herself when she walks into a room to the thick french accent in her voice, everything in Widowmaker reminds you of the bittersweet company of Gèrard’s wife. The time you’ve spent together as friends, and then as lovers. The nights, cups of wine and tears you’ve both shared. The happiness that comes from loving to the sadness that brings knowing you’re not really loved back. Being used by a beautiful woman to fill in the holes her husband leaves in her life, and pretending you don’t notice. Pretending she’s as in love and infatuated with you as you are with her.

It’s useless when you try to look away from Widowmaker’s bright yellow eyes, since she just has to move your head with her hand to force you to look into them once again. Slowly but surely the other tilts her face towards yours until your lips meet once again, and even if it takes a short and painful moment you give in to her touch and kiss her back. Your hands meet her hips where you nail your fingers as you move her body closer to yours in a silent but clear cry for help.

The woman only allows you to enjoy a couple of seconds of calm before moving away, and even though your body tries to follow her Widowmaker’s hands move to hold your arms and keep you sitting there, just inches away from her. When you look up into her face once more you can almost feel her words coming. You don’t know what she’s gonna say, but you know it’s going to be terrible just judging by the way she licks her lips before speaking.

“Besides, I know for a fact you have history with cheating.” The words flow out of her lips like a beautiful song when she speaks, but their meaning crushes you. It makes you want to crawl in a hole as far away from her as possible. It’s sad that, still, that’s not enough to make you want resist her when she leans in to kiss your jawline, slowly moving down through your neck. “Amèlie used to be in the exact same position you’re in right now.” The other mutters in between kisses. “And I guess you were in mine, right? Either I’m not that bad, or you, Angela, are the worst.”

Almost cutting her off, you finally manage to push Widowmaker once more, clearly catching her by surprise. She stumbles, taking just a step back, and looks at you. There’s a mix of surprise and joy in her eyes that you hate, that makes you want to punch her. People say the Widowmaker can’t feel anything but you know better. She can feel way more than she’s willing to admit.

“Leave. Now.” You say still not moving down from your spot on the desk, tears falling down your chins as you’ve already given up on trying to stop them. You can’t bring yourself to care enough to hide the fact that you’re crying.

“Of course, ma trésor.” She says with a comedic gesture of surrender that looks impossibly elegant on her, taking another step back and reaching for her rifle. It was simply laying on the couch of your office, since the other woman doesn’t even consider you threatening enough to hide her weapon when she’s around you. It makes you angry to know that she has no reason to fear you when you have a thousand to fear her. “I will be back. Some other time, hopefully when you’re not thinking of other girls, yes?”  
And just like that she’s gone. There was no hope in your mind that the woman would ask you to let her stay, but it doesn’t make it any less devastating now that you’re once again left alone in your office, sitting on the edge of your desk with a face full of tears and a phone full of unread messages from a woman that deserves way more than someone who can’t get over a lover dead long ago.  
She deserves more than you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @AcousticMalta (on twitter and tumblr) for her lovely artwork you are the BESTEST TO EVER BEST! ❤️  
> She's super talented and sweet, please check out her social media and her storenvy under the same alias!


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